Chapter 6

Finn

7 years ago

Somehow, I thought I’d feel different. Somehow, I thought I’d be relieved he’s dead. But I’m not. And that bothers me because my father was a grade-A piece of shit. And now he’s dead. A heart attack, which sort of makes me want to laugh because the malevolent son of a bitch didn’t have a heart.

In fact, the only good thing he ever did for anyone in his entire life was to die and leave us his money.

“What can I get you?”

“Whiskey,” I tell the bartender without even bothering to glance up at him.

“You don’t strike me as a whiskey drinker,” the man says. And really, what the fuck? The last thing I want right now is his commentary on my choice of alcohol.

“Well, I am,” I say evenly, though it’s a lie. Whiskey is what my father drank. The one I’m about to have will be my first ever. But if it was good enough for that asshole then it’s good enough for me.

The guy doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t ask for my ID. He doesn’t even ask what sort of whiskey I’d like, so I suppose that means I’m at his mercy there. At least he’s not chatty, otherwise I’d have to get up and find another dive bar, instead of drowning my nonsensical sorrows here.

The harsh stink of whiskey permeates my nose as the small glass slides in front of me. My stomach rolls as I’m assaulted with a mélange of memories I’d just as soon forget. But in the most fucked up of masochistic ways, I’m making myself live them.

I raise my small shot glass and tip it back.

No toast. No self-pitying thoughts. Just blind drinking.

The wretched substance burns all the way down my throat, making me cough out and wince. I set the now-empty glass back down and point to it. “Another?” the old bartender chuckles, finding me comical in my quest for total blackout obliteration. “Didn’t seem like you liked the first one all that much.”

“I didn’t. But keep ‘em coming.”

My eyes are fixed on the wood top in front of me. My hands gripping onto the edge of the bar. I’m beyond angry. Rage might actually be a closer description, but I can’t decide who I’m pinning it on. Me or my father.

“Wanna talk about it?” a sweet melodic voice says as the chair next to me shifts and someone slides in it. A floral breeze brushes past me and as I turn, I’m greeted with a woman I never would have expected in a place like this.

She’s blonde, petite and beautiful.

Long tanned legs cross at the knees as she leans forward, smiling at me in a way I don’t feel I deserve. “You look like you could use a friend.”

I take her in for a moment. She’s older than me, but not by much. Maybe twenty-five, maybe older. Hard to tell. She’s made up pretty heavily.

And she’s dressed for a night of fun.

“Are you a prostitute?”

Instead of being wholly offended, which is what I anticipate, she’s laughs. “Are you always this rude or should I excuse your nasty comment because you’re having a bad day?”

I study her for a minute. “You didn’t deny it.”

She bends forward even more than she was a moment ago, alluring me with some of her small, but nice cleavage. “Would that make it easier for you? If I told you I wasn’t a prostitute?”

“I don’t care either way. It’s more of a curiosity.”

She smiles, her large doe-like brown eyes locked on mine as she says, “I’ll have what he’s having,” to the bartender who is still waiting on her. “And in answer to your question, no, I’m not a prostitute. I’m just a girl who needed a drink to escape her first visit home in nearly five years. And you look like someone who is suffering as badly as I am, so I figured what the hell.”

“I’m Finn,” I say, my hand outstretched to shake hers.

“I’m Kelly. Nice to meet you, Finn.”

“Likewise. Sorry about the prostitute thing.”

She shrugs, clearly not bothered in the slightest. Her pretty smile shining just a bit brighter. She’s not from the same neighborhood I’m from. I can tell that just by looking at her non-designer dress and cheap knock-off purse. But I don’t care about this either.

In fact, I think I like this about Kelly.

“Cheers, Finn. To drowning your sorrows with complete strangers.”

“I’ll drink to that.” And I do.

In fact, Kelly and I drink a lot together. She gets me. She understands that my father was an abusive asshole. She doesn’t judge the fact I’m inexplicably torn up over his death. She loves that I’m in medical school. She even suggests we get together when we’re both back in the city.

I like Kelly. She is pretty. And sweet. And smells really good.

Kelly has a beautiful body that I want to fuck so badly I can hardly contain myself.

So I don’t.

I kiss Kelly and she kisses me back. Kelly kisses me back so much so that she climbs into my lap and whispers the name of a hotel not too far away.

Yeah. I think I like Kelly. I think I like Kelly a lot.